


Shaving Cream & Sulfur

by peblezQ



Series: SUPERNATURAL: Nevada [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Anger, Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst and Humour, Arguments, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Humour, I'm Sorry, I'm Sorry Castiel, I'm Sorry Dean, Love Triangles, Nevada, Nicknames, No Smut, Other, Overprotective Dean, Profanity, Psychological Torture, Reader Insert, SPN - Freeform, Supernatural season5, Swearing, Torture, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Violence, Wings, reader interactive, spn au, supernatural alternate universe, you're in supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 03:45:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8129194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peblezQ/pseuds/peblezQ
Summary: You’re captured by demons, but Sam, Dean, Bobby, and Castiel try to rescue you.[Please read “Supernatural: Your Story” in order since each "part" is a chapter of this book; I’m basically just writing and uploading the chapters out of order, so that's why they're separated into a "series".]WARNING: This story contains scenes of torture.(Gender-neutral reader!)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Tired of seeing [Y/N] in reader inserts online, and would rather just read your name instead? Click the link below to change that and other provided details (ie. changing things like [H/C] [E/C], etc.) to your personal preferences so you can become fully immersed into the reader interactive experience!
> 
> http://silencethroughwords.tumblr.com/readerinsert  
> \---------
> 
> {EDIT: Personal pronouns are set up this way now: He/She = [p/p] | Him/Her = [p/h]}
> 
> I was gonna write fluff, but this turned into extreme angst. Heh, sorry ‘bout that ^^;
> 
> The title is kinda random, but kinda relevant at the same time. It was originally a placeholder title, but I decided to keep it because I thought it was really funny when I wrote it at 3:30 in the morning.
> 
> There’s a lot of conflicting ish goin’ on here, and torture; lot’s and lot’s of torture. Also, there’s profanity. I always lighten the mood with comedy, so there’s always that to look forward to. I’m having too much fun writing these reader interactive stories. 
> 
> [Context: This story definitely takes place before Season 5, Episode 10 “Abandon All Hope”, but since the timelines that I found for season 5 are extremely vague, it’s hard to pinpoint where this (+ The Pen & The Sword) can take place. I decided to put them in-between ep.05 and 06 (“Fallen Idols” and “I Believe The Children Are Our Future”) since it’s so vague that there’s a possible month long time jump between those episodes. The struggle is so real. If I’m not accurate, let’s pretend I am because I spent two goddamned hours researching to make sure I can fit this shit in with the actual plot of the show.]
> 
> Comments, Kudos, and Shares are appreciated, but not mandatory! :3 I hope you enjoy the story!
> 
> ~Pebbs

_You’re scrolling through AO3 for a good Supernatural fanfiction, and you finally stumble across a fanfiction that catches your attention. Ignoring the warnings, knowing you can handle it, you click the title. After scrolling down through the description and author’s note, you find yourself at the start of the story. You suddenly notice that you’re reading words that are describing what you’re doing at this very moment. You wonder where the hell this story is going, since it’s being too oddly specific, and not at all in the Supernatural world - but instead, the real world. Has anyone ever done this? Write a story that describes the reader - reading said story? Probably, to be honest, but it’s still rare. Your eyes skim along the next sentence written in italics, and you realize that you're still reading this bullshit. You allow yourself to become immersed into the story…_

You jolt up in the motel bed, sweating and panting hoarsely. You blink as you gulp in another breath before slowing your breathing down. _‘What a weird dream…?’_ you mutter to yourself in your head. This is the third dream this year that was extremely vivid like a memory. You rub the sweat off of your forehead with your wrist, since your palms are too clammy. You sigh and pull the blankets off of you, instantly shivering at the sudden impact of the air cooling your skin. Your whole body is drenched like you were out in the rain recently, and you shifted uncomfortably out of your bed, pitter-pattering to the bathroom. You flip the switch and squint as the light burns your eyes, closing and locking the door as you re-adjust your vision. You walk over to the door that conjoins to Sam and Dean’s room, and you proceed to close and lock that door as well.

You flinch slightly while the tap squeaks as you turn the knobs. You cup your hands under the cool water and splash it on your face, and you repeat this a few more times. You then drink some of the water, realizing that your mouth is dry, and you grab a towel after turning the tap off. You pat your face dry, and continue patting across your body. You stop patting when you hear rustling outside the door. You instinctively turn to Sam and Dean’s door, but then you hear a creak in the floorboards behind your door. Your head snaps to the left, facing your door with squinted eyes. You slowly place the towel down, and quietly grab the closest weapon to you; which just so happens to be a can of shaving cream. You hold it with your index finger pressed against the nozzle, ready to spray the contents in the intruder’s eyes. Monster or not, shaving cream in anyone’s eyes will hurt like hell.

Your free hand reaches for the door, unlocking it as quietly as possible. You take a deep breath before opening the door and squeezing the nozzle, shooting shaving cream across the motel floor. You blink, easing your head into the room when you see it’s completely empty. You raise an eyebrow, flipping the light on to make sure nothing’s hiding in the shadows. You carefully walk into the room, heading straight to your pillow and lifting it to grab your gun. You drop the can on the bed as you double check for bullets, and then ready the trigger. You ease yourself around the bed, walking gracefully to resist making any noise as your search your room. 

A metallic thud on the floor causes you to turn with a jolt, pointing your gun at the floor behind your bed. You sigh with frustrated relief when you realize it was just the shaving cream that rolled off of the mattress. You safely ease your gun down to your side as you stride over to the rolling can, and lean over to pick it up. You walk over the cream on the floor, and enter the bathroom again to rest the can on the counter where you found it. You rest your gun beside the can, and then you grab the towel to clean up the shaving cream on the floor.

As you turn to your room, you bump into someone - or something. You drop the towel as your eyes meet black one’s staring at you with an evil smirk plastered on their face. You grab the gun, and shoot the demon in front of you in a swift motion, causing it to stumble back, wincing in pain. You always lace your bullets with holy water and salt just in case you have to slow down a demon. The demon starts laughing as it hits the wall, looking at something behind you. You blink, widening your eyes with realization that this demon is obviously not alone. _Shit--_ WHACK! You’re out cold after something strikes the side of your head.

Sam and Dean wake up slowly from the fumbling noises coming from the bathroom. Dean groans, rolling over, but then he and Sam sit up with a jolt when they hear a gunshot. They share a quick glance at each other before leaping out of their beds, weapons at the ready.

“Y/n!” Dean calls out, his voice sounding like a protective mama-bear’s roar. Sam jiggles the doorknob, but sighs angrily as he realizes it’s locked. Sam starts banging on the door, wiggling the knob and shoving his weight to get in.

“Move!” Dean orders his brother, to which he reacts by practically throwing himself against the wall. Dean charges at the door, and kicks it with extreme force, causing the wood to split as the door swings open. Dean hurries into the bahroom, but halts when he sees your gun on the floor. He hurries past it, walking over the towel beside it into your room, and notices his shaving cream is all over the floor. His eyes follow the line of shaving cream, and until he is looking at the wide open door to the motel room. The wind blows into the room, causing the curtains to flow about, and some rain drenches the entrance of the room.

“Y/n…” Sam breathes, staring with worry towards the open door. Dean lowers on one knee, and brushes his fingers through a small part of of yellow dust on the floor next to the shaving cream. He sniffs it, and lowers his eyes as he looks out the door muttering, “Sulfur…”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Cas, get your ass down here! We need you! Please!” Dean calls out for the third time, impatiently pacing back and forth in his and Sam’s motel room. Dean stops in his tracks and turns around when he hears the familiar sound of fluttering wings behind him.

“Dean, can this wait? I’m in the middle of--”

“Y/n was taken by demons.” Dean says, cutting Castiel off.

“What?” Castiel’s head tilts and his eyes slightly widen with disbelief.

“Demons just came and took p/h, leaving behind a trail of shaving cream and sulfur.” Dean says, throwing his arms in the air. Castiel squints, tilting his head and muttering, “Shaving cream…?” in a low voice. Sam sighs, and rubs his forehead stressfully.

“Look, we just need your help finding p/h.” Sam says, walking closer to the angel. Castiel sighs, looking down to the side, and then back at the Winchester’s.

“What do you need me to do.” Castiel states - instead of asking - with furrowed eyebrows; while looking up at the boys, his head still slightly tils off to the side.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sam and Dean finish packing up their’s and your things into the trunk after returning the keys to the motel clerk. Dean stops at his door, and stares at the motel, lost in thought. This causes Sam to stop and stare at his brother questionably with a raised eyebrow.

“What is it?” Sam asks while leaning on the car. Dean shakes his head, and looks over at his brother.

“It’s weird right? How we didn’t need to put much effort into convincing Cas to help us save y/n...” Dean asks Sam with a baffled expression.

“Cas and y/n might not’ve gotten along in the past, but they’re over that now. Besides, getting kidnapped by demons is a serious matter that nobody takes lightly, even if the victim is someone you don’t like. Cas is very well aware of that.” Sam says with a slight shrug. Dean sighs, nodding with understanding at his brother’s statement. They both enter the impala, closing the doors in sync, and driving off into the night.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean continues to drive as Sam is on the phone with Bobby, explaining the situation to him. Sam sighs, and finishes his conversation.

“Okay...see ya soon, Bobby…” Sam says as Dean looks over to see his brother hang up the phone.

“What’d he say?” Dean asks, looking back at the road again.

“Bobby said he’ll call some hunters and see if someone will take our case for us…” Sam says, staring down at the old hat Bobby gave you. It’s an old roughed up trucker’s hat, and it’s colour is dulled, but you still loved it. You wore it when Bobby was teaching you how to hunt; back when the Winchester’s met you. Sam leans back, rubbing his thumb across the brim of the hat as he reminisces on when you and Bobby first met; realizing Bobby was wearing this hat that day, and that’s when it caught your attention.

_Your eyes open - one lid opening slightly faster than the other - as you’re being lightly shaken. You look up at the puppy-dog giant as he smiles reassuringly at you._

_“Nevada, wake up. We’re here.” Sam says calmly._

_You stretch your arms, and wipe the drool off of your face and the seat before sitting up. You step out of the impala, and you notice you’re still wearing Tom-the-demon’s jacket as the sleeve gets caught in the door handle. You release the sleeve, and shove your hands in the pockets, liking the way the jacket hangs on your shoulders. It’s a dull green army jacket that is a few sizes too big for you, and the inside is a soft beige material with a few hidden pockets._

_You look up at Sam, and lightly smile at him as Dean pulls a backpack out of the trunk with clothes and other necessities they got for you in it. You accept the bag from Dean, hanging it over your shoulder as he shuts the trunk of the impala; which you learned not too long ago that its name is Baby. You silently laugh to yourself at the fact that Dean named his car while the three of you walk up to an old rickety porch with a man - maybe in his fifties of sixties - waiting there for you three. As you walk up the steps, Sam introduces you to the man._

_“Nevada, this is Bobby Singer. He’ll take care of you and teach you how to hunt.” Sam says, patting your shoulder reassuringly. You reach out your hand and shake Bobby’s, and he has a firm grip. He huffs while nodding at you with a brief smile. You break your locked gaze with his blue eyes to look at his old trucker’s hat on his head. You smile and say, “I like your hat,” before realizing you just said that out loud. It was meant to be a mental comment, but it just flowed out like word vomit. His lips seem to crack as he smiles widely at you for a moment, and he relaxes his face, looking amused as you quickly release the handshake._

_“It’s a pleasure meetin’ you, Nevada. I’m sure we’ll get along perfectly fine…” Bobby says in a gruff voice with a hint of a southern drawl._

“Sammy?” Dean says, pulling Sam out of the memory with a tired hum.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that…” Sam says, looking over at Dean as he loosens his tight grip on the old hat.

“I just said that’s good that Bobby’s finding someone to take our case for us…” Dean says, looking over at Sam with worry in his eyes.

“Oh...yeah, right.” Sam says, looking back down at the hat before looking out his window. Dean sighs, looking out at the road again and changing his grip on the wheel.

“How’d Bobby take the news?”

“He didn’t take it well…” Sam says, absentmindedly stroking the hat with his thumb again.

“Yeah…” Dean says, swallowing hard; his adam’s apple rolls up and down, and he clenches his jaw with a brief nod. His eyes dance across the road quickly, trying to fight the urge to cry. Sam slouches a bit in his seat, and leans his head on the window after yawning.

“I’m gonna get some shut eye.” Sam says, briefly looking over to see if Dean acknowledged what he said. Dean hums, and Sam curls himself up against the window, hugging the hat close to his heart as he lets himself drift off into sleep.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Sam wakes up with a hitched breath as his brother nudges him awake.

“We're here, Sammy.” Dean says in a low voice.

Sam notices it's breaking dawn as he looks up at Bobby's house. They exit the impala, and grab the bags from the trunk, and then they trudge to the back of the house. As they open the back door, they see Bobby in the kitchen taking a swig of a half empty bottle of whiskey. Dean closes the door behind him and Sam to catch Bobby’s attention; the old grump turning his wheelchair and holding out the bottle. Dean walks over, dropping the duffel bags, and chugging a good gulp of the whiskey. Sam lingers in the entrance to the kitchen, leaning against the door frame with a sullen look. Bobby looks like he didn’t get any sleep after Sam called him a few hours ago, and instead decided to drink all night until the brothers showed up.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The three of them don’t utter a word for a long time as they sit in the den; Bobby at the desk, Dean slouched on the couch, and Sam in the armchair. Dean and Bobby finished the previous whiskey, so they grabbed another bottle and pass it across the room every now and then. They just silently await Castiel’s return with any information on your whereabouts. Dean reminisces over random memories with you, wishing to the God Castiel’s searching for that you can be here, safe and sound.

_”You want some?” Dean asks as he nudges the bottle at you while wiggling his eyebrows. You chuckle as you shove the bottle of whiskey away from you, shaking your head._

_“I don’t drink. You know that.” You reply while tightening your grip on the edges of the book on your lap, casting your eyes to the floor._

_“I know, I was just wondering if this was gonna be the day you started.” Dean says with a sly smirk before taking another swig from the bottle._

_“Leave the poor kid alone, you idjit.” Bobby mumbles from his desk, flipping to another page in his book without looking up. You smile at Bobby, who briefly returns it before going back into his research._

_“Y/n’s no kid. You’re 21 now, so that means you can drink legally.” Dean says, looking at you with a bright smile. Your breath hitches in your throat at Dean’s smile, and you stare at your book with a bashful smile in return. This is the first time Dean has ever looked at you as an equal, and not a child he has to protect. You shake your head at the older Winchester, refusing his offer of whiskey._

_“Ah, come on, y/n. You didn’t drink on your birthday. You’ve gotta at least take one sip.” Dean begs with a childish pout._

_“That wasn’t even my birthday. That was just the anniversary of the day we met...which is still weird how you can remember that, by the way…” You say, looking at him with a cocked eyebrow at the last part. Dean’s cheeks flush into a soft pink, and he clears his throat._

_“How could I forget it? That was a crazy-ass day…” Dean says with a soft chuckle. He coughs again, this time covering his mouth with his fist before adding, “and just because you have a shitty memory, doesn’t mean that I do too,” you smack his shoulder, which barely fazes him. He laughs, and takes another sip of the whiskey before Sam walks by, snatching it out of his hand._

_“That’s enough you two...we have work to do.” Sam says as he places the bottle on the desk in front of Bobby’s book. Dean rolls his eyes, and then rests his arm around you while reading over your shoulder. Your palm covers his face, and you shove him away from you while playfully groaning, “Stop it, you moron…”_

_Dean lets out a hearty laugh, and you roll your eyes before immersing yourself into the book. Dean just rests his arm over the back of the couch, admiring your profile as you read. His eyes trace your features until they fall to your lips. He continues to stare at them, feeling his gut flip enough to snap him back into reality. He averts his gaze away from you, staring down at the floor._

Dean sighs, and vacantly stares at the whiskey loosely hanging from his fingers in-between his legs. His thoughts glaze over every moment he admired your face, wondering if he’ll ever see it again. He instinctively looks over to his left where you would usually sit, silently desiring to gaze at your lips again. His eyes widen when he sees Castiel standing in the large frame that separates the kitchen from the den, and stands up. 

“Cas, please tell me you know where y/n is…” Dean says, pulling Sam and Bobby out of their grieving trances. Castiel’s eyes falter from Dean’s, and looks down to the side. He adjusts his stance, and looks up at Dean from his slightly hunched over head. 

“I found y/n’s location, but…” 

“But, what?” Dean snaps, slamming the whiskey bottle on the desk. 

“Dean,” Sam says carefully while standing up quickly. 

“Where is y/n, exactly?” Bobby asks reluctantly while rolling to the other side of the desk, not losing his view on the angel. Castiel sighs, and bluntly says, “Y/n…is in Hell…" 

“Hell?” Dean says, wide eyed and with a roaring voice. “We have to get p/h out!” 

“I am aware of that, Dean.” Castiel says, squinting his eyes with confusion towards the shorter Winchester. 

“Could you drag y/n out like you did with Dean?” Sam asks, averting the angel’s gaze to him. 

“It will be difficult without the help of Heaven, but I will do my best.” Castiel replies in his usual low voice. Dean starts to pace nervously; something he usually does when he needs to think quickly. 

“So, what do we do? Wait here until you get back?” Dean asks as he continues to pace. 

“Well, yes. There’s nothing else you could do. Just trust me, Dean. I will get y/n out no matter what it takes…” Castiel explains, still standing in the same spot. Dean stops in his tracks, and turns to face Castiel. 

“How can I trust you. You don’t even like y/n.” Dean snaps, furrowing his eyebrows at the confused seraph. 

“That is not relevant, Dean --” 

“Yes it is.” Dean states, cutting of Castiel. 

“Dean, they became friends not that long ago.” Sam says, gesturing towards Castiel. 

“ _One week ago_ they decided to stop being dicks to each other. That’s not friendship, Sam, that’s being fucking civil.” Dean growls. 

“Why are you so angry right now? Cas is offering to save y/n from Hell, and you’re tearing him apart instead of thanking him like a normal person.” Sam says, his voice slightly raising. 

“I’m not a normal person, Sammy.” 

“That still doesn’t justify your bitchy attitude.” Sam retorts, feeling himself fill up with rage. 

"Would you two idjits stop arguing? We’re wasting time here! You two are arguing like a couple of selfish nitwits while y/n’s burnin’ in Hell!” Bobby yells, stopping the two brothers from thrashing out at each other. 

“He’s right. We need to focus on the task at hand, here --” 

“Shut up, Cas.” Dean quietly roars, snapping his eyes to the baffled angel. Castiel steps forward, leaning into Dean’s personal space with rage boiling in his piercing blue eyes. His features remain stoic as he leans up towards Dean forcefully. 

“I don’t care about your feelings, Dean - nobody’s feelings or opinions matter to me right now. All that matters right now is rescuing y/n from perdition.” Castiel growls at Dean, his voice rough and low with a deadpan expression. Dean blinks, completely dumbfounded, and relaxes his posture as Castiel backs away, never faltering in his intense stare at Dean. 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

You gradually fall into consciousness, keeping your eyes closed as you try to recall what you remember last. You remember waking up in the middle of the night, going to the bathroom, grabbing shaving cream, and… You groan as you notice your head throbbing, remembering your were hit with some type of bat, maybe. Your eyes flick open quickly when your realize your shoulders and hands are being held up with hooks. You look around with panic invading your core as you see an endless amount of dark purple and red smoke everywhere. You try not to move, and you hold back the urge to scream as you feel your flesh slowly ripping under the rusty hooks seared through you. You notice a bunch of chains criss-crossing around and above you, and the hooked chains holding you up are dangling from the endless chains all over the place. You look down, and notice there’s just a seemingly endless void all around you. You hear distant screams of terror coming from everywhere, and you involuntarily start to pant. You grunt as the chains jerk, slowly dragging you to the right as if they run on a conveyor belt. You look around frantically, but you sigh frustratingly when you can’t see anything but the thick fog. 

You suddenly stop in a dark room, and a stone door closes behind you with a loud scraping sound echoing in your eardrums. After scanning the room, you come to realize it looks like you’re hanging in a dungeon from the middle ages. Without any more control over yourself, you scream out, “Hello! Is anyone there? Please, help me!”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

You rot in here for what feels like weeks, and you’re in too much pain to feel tired or hungry. Every now and then you’d call out, but nobody would respond or come in. You constantly think about where you are, and if Sam and Dean know you were taken here - wherever _here_ is. Then you hear it. It’s almost inaudible at first, but then the voice calls again, causing you to snap your head up.

“Y/n?” You hear a familiar voice call from outside the door. You feel tears sting the corners of your eyes as the door creaks open, and you see him.

“Dean?” you croak out, your voice cracking furiously as you speak. You didn’t realize your mouth was dry until now. He carefully slips into the room after double taking through the hallway, closing the door behind him. 

“It’s so good to see you, Dean…” you mumble as he carefully walks up to you.

“Where are we?” you ask as you take another look around your dungeon. 

"Welcome to Hell, y/n.” Dean says, shifting his weight with crossed arms and a cocked eyebrow. You scoff while rolling your eyes, thinking he’s taking an opportunity to be sarcastic before saving you. His eyes gaze over your body, taking in the detail of the dirty and bloody clothes you’re wearing before you were brought here. His green eyes leave an uneasy trail up to your face, and then a menacing grin grows across his cheeks as he takes in your terrified features. You feel dizzy and ill as Dean caresses your face, tsk-ing you while wiping your tears away. 

“Oh, y/n…” he says in a mocking tone. “Do you think I’m here to save you?” He asks, tilting his head and giving you a puppy look before laughing maniacally at you.

He turns and leaves the room for a few moments, then re-enters with a cart of maybe twenty torture devices on it. Your eyes widen, and you furiously shake your head to distract him from your trembling body. He picks up a knife, and lightly drags the tip up your torso, and along your collarbone to trace down your right arm. You shiver at the cold blade brushing against your skin, and you don’t lose your gaze from Dean. He smiles at you as he pushes harder and slices through your skin and flesh, causing you to scream. He finds himself amused with this, so he begins to twist into your arm, and you hear your tenants snapping and cracking as he cuts them apart. Your scream intensifies as your eyes widen with a mixture of shock and terror. He continues slicing through you at a snail’s pace, drinking in every movement and scream you make under his torture.

“Stop!” You finally scream, unable to handle any more pain and suffering. He chuckles darkly, and grabs your face in his free hand with a firm grip. He leans in, resting his stubbled cheek against yours.

“Oh, but we’re just getting started…” he whispers, his hot breath tickling your neck and sending shivers down your spine.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

You hear the door open, and you don’t even bother opening your eyes for Dean. You figured out it isn’t really him years ago, but you don’t know what else to call him. He comes in everyday to tease and torture you, and always starts out with the same question.

“So, y/n. You wanna make a deal?” Dean asks as he steps closer to you. You open your eyes, but you keep them fixed on the floor.

“No.” You respond loudly, hoping to sound tough, but your voice is dulled and cracks every time you say something.

“But it’s a good one. It’ll stop your pain and suffering… All you’ve gotta do is torture some souls --”

“Fuck off!” You spit out, looking him in his green eyes. He chuckles darkly, and paces to the torture table, grabbing an iron rod and a blowtorch.

“Suit yourself, sweetheart…” he utters as he heats up the end of the iron rod. His eyes flicker up at you, and you scoff at him.

“You know, I agreed to torture souls when I was a prisoner here…” he says, smirking at you as he continues to heat up the rod. You roll your eyes at him; not in the mood for his pathetic small-talk. 

“You’re not Dean. You’re just a hallucination…” You mumble to him tiredly.

“Oh, this is very real, sweetheart,” he says, seering the iron rod onto the skin of your chest. You scream out as he holds the tip there, branding you as he continues, “ **I** am very real…” 

You hiss and manage to growl out a, “Fuck you…” in-between your low grunts. He continues to chuckle again, and pulls the rod away, giving you a moment of relief.

“How do you think I’m so good at interrogating monsters? I learned my tricks in Hell, sweet-”

“Call me sweetheart again, and I’ll-” 

“You’ll do what? Punch me? _Kill_ me?” he scoffs, letting out a dark hearty laugh.

“I’ll swing by tomorrow, and you can freely take my offer so you can release that anger on some souls.” He says before pressing the rod against your left shoulder. You hold in your screams, and let out painful groans as you reply, “In your dreams, asshole…”

"I’m not lying, you know…” Dean says, pulling the rod away from your shoulder. You raise an eyebrow as he turns around to re-heat the rod.

“When I was in Hell, I tortured so many helpless souls. I resisted, like you, for thirty years…” He explains as his eyes are fixed on the flame heating the iron rod.

“What made you break?” You ask, causing him to avert his eyes to you with a smirk.

“This --” he says, leaning in and stabbing you with the fiery rod. You scream, and then let out a painful laugh as your body stays tense.

“A hot rod stabbing you, huh? I highly doubt that…” You growl, your jaw clenching as you try to resist the urge to cry and scream. He turns the rod slowly, releasing that scream you were holding back as you ball your hands up into fists.

“Don’t be a smart-ass, y/n.”

“What’ve I got to lose? You’re still gonna torture me until there’s nothing left for you to play with.” You utter out, bowing your head as you slowly become numb to the pain in your shoulder. He pulls the iron rod out, and places it on the cart. Sneering at you, he grabs your neck, and forces you to look at him.

“Look into my eyes!” He roars, squeezing tighter until your eyes dart to his. His eyes are black, and he’s grinning at you from ear to ear. 

“This is your future, y/n. One day I’m going to be the one who’ll kill you. I’m going to grab you like this, and not feel any remorse while doing it.” He growls, squeezing a little tighter. You wish you could just die already, but since you’re in Hell, your pain is never ending. He suddenly hurls toward you, harshly kissing you with greedy hunger. You feel his free hand trailing around your body, causing you to whimper quietly. He releases your throat enough that you can speak, his lips ghosting yours as you whisper, “Stop...please…” 

He grins and kisses you again, this time more intense than the last. You feel a gross moist feeling balling up in your gut, and it shoots through your veins until you harshly start to shiver with trepidation. You feel like your skin is melting into your bones, and every touch is violating you. He grins on your lips, and backs away, his eyes emerald again as he whispers, “You’ll always be mine.”

You shudder as he says _‘mine’_ , and then everything becomes a numb blur after that.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Years later, you hear crashing outside your door, but you ignore it, keeping your eyes shut. You’re too tired to care about anything right now. Your door bursts open, and you feel a tight knot in your gut at the thought of Dean walking in to start another day with his torture. You’re suddenly taken aback when you hear a different voice calling your name, and hurrying to you. It’s a deep, gravelly voice...kind of like...

“Castiel?” You mumble groggily without opening your eyes. He hushes you as he takes you down, and holds you tightly in his arms. You open your eyes, and see the bloody angel looking down at you with a stoic look. His eyes, however, shows his relief and worry as he stares down at you. He cups your face in his hands, and strokes your cheek reassuringly. He looks over with a jolt as someone else enters your cage, but your exhaustion takes over, causing you to fall into unconsciousness again.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Sam and Dean are sitting on the couch at Bobby’s in the middle of the night, unable to sleep, and researching for alternative ways to end the biblical apocalypse. Dean sighs, tossing a newspaper on the desk and rubbing his head.

“I don’t think I can do this Sammy...not without p/h…” Dean says quietly.

“It’s been a few weeks, Dean. We can’t just sit here and do nothing. We did what we could to get Cas in Hell, but keep in mind that we still have an apocalypse to end.” Sam says, looking over at Dean after closing his laptop. "It's what y/n would want..." Sam adds with a soft voice.

“I - I just can’t focus without y/n here....” Dean says as he leans forward, running his hand through his hair. Sam pauses, staring at Dean with squinted eyes, and it catches his brother’s attention. 

“What?” 

“Dean, you don’t…you know...” Sam trails off, and leans back, completely shocked and pleased with himself at the same time. Dean raises an eyebrow as his brother stares at him with an unreadable expression. 

“You’ve gotta thing for y/n, don’t you?” Sam asks with realization, causing Dean’s face to heat up.

“What? No!” Dean rebuttals, his voice an octave higher than usual. He quickly clears his throat, and mutters, “I don’t have a _thing_ for y/n…” in his deep voice. Sam can’t hold back the uncontrollable smile invading his lips, and Dean shoots him a bitch-face.

“Shut up, Sammy.” Dean grumbles, standing up and stomping towards the kitchen. 

“I didn’t say anything…” Sam says while coughing out the light chuckle in his tone. Castiel abruptly appears after Sam blinks, and he jolts out of his seat. 

“Cas!” Sam yells, causing Dean to turn around quickly. They stare wide eyed for a moment as Castiel is weakly holding you bridal-style, both of you covered in bruises and blood. He wobbles in his place, and the two brothers catch him before he can fall. They lead Cas to the sofa, and the angel places you on it gently. He wobbles back, being grounded by Sam as he grips Castiel’s shoulders. 

“Y/n is alive.” is all Castiel says before passing out, falling with a thud as he hits the floor. Bobby rolls out as if on cue, and stares wide-eyed at the bloody scene in front of him. His eyes become glossy when he notices you laying on the sofa, and Dean caressing your forehead with watery eyes. 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

You groan as you slowly regain consciousness, grabbing your head instinctively. It’s throbbing causes your brain to feel like it’s being squeezed into mush. You hear muffled voices, and the presence of someone hovering over you. You feel a large hand gently place a cool and damp cloth on your head with care. Calloused fingers brush your hair out of your face, and you force your heavy eyelids open at a slow pace to see the face the hand belongs to. Your vision is dark and blurry, and everything sounds like you’re underwater. The muffled voice becomes more clear as you hear a gentle and deep voice whisper your name with curiosity in their tone. You slowly blink, trying to focus on the blurry figure above you. After a few moments, you can finally make out the chiseled features of the man above you as his green eyes gently watches you. You see the crinkles in the corners of his eyes while he gives you a relieved smile.

“Welcome back, Nevada…” 

You jolt up, jerking away from him with wide eyes. He backs up, waving his hands in attempt to calm you down, but you stare at him with a rapidly increasing heartbeat.

“Get away from me!” you scream, causing him to get up and back away slowly. 

“Woah, hey...take it easy--” 

“No!” You yell, ignoring his reassuring words. You grab your head, squeezing your eyes shut as you become sensitive to everything around you, causing it all to tug at your brain even tighter. 

“You’re not real!” You scream, still gripping your head. 

“Don’t worry, y/n. It’s us...see?” the tall man that looks like Sam says, lifting a jug of water with a rosary inside. He splashes a bit of it on his face, and then splashes some on the man who looks like Dean. You turn and notice Bobby in his wheelchair, and Castiel standing beside him; both of them gazing at you with remorse in their eyes. Sam tosses the bottle of holy water to Dean, who proceeds to splash some on Bobby, and then at Castiel. Castiel furrows his eyebrows at Dean; his head still tilted, and his eyes continuing to squint as he mutters, “I am an angel of the Lord, Dean. Was that really necessary…?” with his low, gravelly voice.

“Wings…?” you utter out awkwardly, averting their gazes back to you. 

“I told you to stop calling me that,” Castiel's irritated glare fades as he focuses on you. Your cheeks become sore as an uncontrollable grin stretches across your face. You then scan across the room, realizing you’re in Bobby’s house. 

“Is this real?” you ask, looking back at Castiel with a slight head tilt. You notice Sam pull out a silver knife, and then he proceeds to cut his arm. You watch the blood trickle down his arm before he wraps a bandanna from his pocket around the wound. 

“Sammy? Is that really you?” You ask with a hopeful look. Everyone else proceeds to go through the rest of the hunter ticks after Sam to prove that they’re really them, except for Castiel - but you already knew was him from his low voice, confused gaze, and him just overall being a complete dork. 

“Yeah, it’s me,” Sam responds with a warm smile. You look over at Bobby and he says, “Glad to have you back, kiddo.” 

Dean notices the cloth has fallen off of your head, and he instinctively walks over to pick it up, placing it back on your head. You jerk yourself away from his touch, silently hissing as you shoot daggers at him. He gulps nervously, and backs away like a dog with a tail in-between their legs.

“Stay away from me,” you growl, shifting yourself over to keep your distance. Dean blinks, completely baffled at your not-so-welcoming glare you’re giving him.

“What’s wrong?” he asks slowly, tilting his head at you.

“Y/n just came back from Hell, you idjit.” Bobby says, shooting his grumpy gaze at Dean.

“I was actually in Hell? That was real?” You ask, squinting your eyes on a random spot on the floor.

“Yeah…” Sam says, causing you to look up at him anxiously.

“How long was I gone?” You ask reluctantly, looking over at Bobby.

“It didn’t take us long to find out you were dragged to Hell. However, it took a few weeks to get you out,” Sam explains as you to look over at him again, and your eyes avert to the floor as you mumble, “Oh…”

“How long did you think you were gone for?” Bobby asks, your eyes still looking at your folded hands.

“I dunno, I lost track of time...” you mumble, not daring to look at the men in front of you. You know they’re all sharing concerned looks between each other as you sit quietly. You look up through your eyelashes as you ask, “How’d you get me out, anyways…?”

“Castiel got you out…” Sam says while looking over at the angel. Your eyes dart to Castiel, and you fight the sudden urge to cry.

“ _You_ got me out, Wings?” you mumble, and he briefly nods.

“It was not easy. I had to do it without the help of heaven--” he explains in his usual low voice, but he’s cut off when you’re suddenly on your feet and hugging him. He holds his arms out awkwardly, and looks down at you as you nuzzle yourself into his chest, squeezing him tight.

“Thank you…” your voice is muffled as you speak into his chest, your eyes squeezing tighter as one tear escapes from your eye. Castiel relaxes himself and hesitantly wraps his arms around you, slowly resting his chin on your head.

“You're welcome…” he says, his low voice vibrating through his chest as he speaks, and you take that as your cue to break the hug.

“Who would’ve known it would take you going to Hell to actually hug Cas?” Sam says with a slight chuckle, lightening up the mood a bit. You smile at him, and lightly punch his arm while saying, “Trying to have a moment here, and you ruined it.” Sam laughs a little harder now, and you roll your eyes and let out a breathy chuckle. Dean smiles at you, glad that you’re already starting to act normal, but he’s taken aback when he sees you staring at him questionably.

“I’m - uhh - sorry about earlier, Dean.” You say, rubbing the crook of your neck with a bashful glance at the floor. He smiles and waves off your apology while saying, “It’s no problem. I understand…”

You give him a weak smile, and he approaches you to give you a hug, but he stops in his tracks when he sees you hold out your hand for a handshake. He stares at your odd gesture, wondering why you’re suddenly so distant with him. He forces a small smile, and firmly shakes your hand. After releasing the handshake, he backs away, and he averts his gaze to the floor, swallowing the lump in his throat.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

“How’d you know where to look for me, anyways?” You ask while keeping your gaze locked into his blue eyes.

“The demons who took you left behind a trail of shaving cream and sulfur…It wasn’t very hard to find you from there.” Castiel explains in a low, monotonous voice.

“Shaving cream…?” You say slowly before you let out a hearty chuckle. You remember spraying shaving cream all over the motel floor, and the memory makes you laugh a little harder. Dean furrows his brows as he leans against the frame between the kitchen and the den. He bitterly watches you and Castiel talking on the sofa, clenching his jaw as he thinks about what those demons did to you in Hell.

“I’m glad y/n and Castiel are getting along,” Sam whispers, slightly startling Dean as he walks up beside him.

“Huh? Oh, yeah…” Dean mutters, looking back at you and the angel sitting at opposite ends of the couch and chatting with each other, both of you looking extremely awkward - as usual.

“Are you okay, Dean?” Sam asks quietly.

“Peachy,” Dean grumbles, not losing his gaze at the awkwardly pleasant scene in front of him.

“Are you jealous of Cas?” Sam asks hesitantly, causing Dean to release his arms and snap his head at Sam, giving him an extreme bitch-face.

“Y/n just got back from Hell, and I’m here wondering what happened to p/h down there. I don’t give a rat’s ass that p/p's talking to Cas.” Dean says as he looks over at you with saddened eyes. Dean rolls on the frame, and enters the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge as Sam walks up behind him.

“So, this has nothing to do with you and your feelings for y/n, then?” Sam asks as Dean pops the cap off of the bottle. He takes a good swig of the beer, and he wipes a little that drooled down his chin with his forearm.

“I don’t have feelings for y/n - I mean, I do... - but not like that,” Dean says, gesturing his free hand in the air.

“Then what’s bothering you - I mean, besides the fact that you’re pissed about this whole ‘Hell situation’…” Sam asks, keeping his voice down.

“Y/n can’t even look me in the eyes, Sammy.” Dean says, gesturing to you with a harsh whisper. “I can’t help but feel like p/p blames me for all of this…”

“Don’t say that, Dean. This isn’t your fault, and y/n knows that.” Sam says, reassuringly grabbing Dean’s shoulder.

“It sure as hell don’t feel that way…” Dean says as he shrugs Sam’s hand away, and sits down at the kitchen table with a huff. He takes another swig of his beer, nearly finishing it before speaking again.

“We were supposed to - **I** was supposed to protect y/n, and I failed…” Dean mutters, staring at his bottle in self pity.

“This isn’t on you, Dean. Besides, we got y/n out of Hell-”

“ _Cas_ got y/n out of Hell…” Dean corrects his brother, looking up at him from his seat. Sam sighs and sits across from Dean at the table.

“Look, we knew y/n was Hell’s most wanted since day one. Something like this was inevitable and out of our control.” Sam explains, trying to reassure his brother and take some weight off of his shoulders. Dean sighs hoarsely, feeling the weight anchor him down even more instead. 

“Exactly. We knew demons were after y/n, and I took responsibility the moment I gave away my phone number to this random stranger we found on the side of the road one night.” Dean says, gripping his bottle tightly. “After y/n showed up at our motel room that night, asking for our help, I knew there was no going back from there… I made a promise that I'd keep y/n safe...” Dean continues before taking a quick sip of his beer. Sam stares at his brother, unable to speak as Dean sits silently. Castiel walks in the kitchen, catching both of the brother’s attention.

“Y/n is asleep.” Castiel says before walking closer to the boys.

“Good.” Sam says with a warm smile.

“Did y/n mention anything about Hell…?” Dean asks reluctantly, fumbling with his beer as he looks up at the angel.

“No. I did not think to mention it since we started to have a rather pleasant conversation…” Castiel replies, still stoic and speaking in a low voice.

“Oh yeah, what were you two lovebirds talking about?” Dean asks in a low grumbly voice, sounding tired and grumpy like Bobby. Castiel tilts his head and squints his eyes at Dean; a signature thing he does all the time.

“We spoke about when we first met, and our first impressions of each other. Y/n told me that p/p liked my “fluffy hair”.” Castiel replies, doing air quotations at the last part, and completely ignoring Dean’s remark of calling you and Castiel “lovebirds”. Sam chuckles, and smiles at the angel.

“Can’t argue with that. You do have great fluffy hair,” Sam says with a shrug and a hazy smile. Dean huffs, getting irritated that Castiel and Sam are steering off track from the discussion. 

“Do you at least know why y/n won’t talk to - or even look at me?” Dean asks roughly, averting Castiel’s and Sam’s gazes back on him.

“No,” Castiel says, not losing eye contact with Dean. Bobby quietly rolls in the kitchen and grabs a beer out of the fridge. Dean finishes his beer, and wiggles his empty bottle at Bobby who grabs another for Dean before closing the fridge. He rolls over to Dean and tosses him the bottle, and they both open their beers in sync.

“How’s y/n holdin’ up?” Bobby asks as he looks over at Sam. Castiel steps in Bobby’s line of sight, and answers, “Y/n is sleeping now. Beforehand we conversed and avoided the subject of Hell…" 

“That’s good…” Bobby hums, taking another sip of his beer. “It’s odd, though… Y/n havin’ a full conversation with you without either of you tearin’ each other apart...” Bobby adds, looking over at the strange angel again. 

“Yeah. I guess Cas and y/n are buddies now…” Dean says sarcastically while glaring at his half-empty beer.

“Is there a problem, Dean?” Sam asks with anger slowly boiling inside of him. All of their voices still stay hushed even as the room starts to get heated.

“Besides y/n goin’ to Hell and back - I’m fucking fantastic.” Dean mumbles while still staring intensely into his bottle, watching his beer slowly foam.

“You’ve been on edge all night, and you were saying something about feeling responsible for this even after I told you it’s not your fault.” Sam says, causing Dean to shoot him a bitch-face. 

“I can assure you that this is not your fault, Dean.” Castiel says, trying to bring some sort of reassurance to the older Winchester.

“Shut up, Cas.” Dean growls with his jaw clenched tightly. 

“You’re doing it again.” Sam whispers in a harsh tone, his eyes narrowing.

“Doing what?” Dean snaps back in a hushed tone.

“Stop it, all of you! May I remind you that y/n is trying to sleep in the other room?” Bobby says, gesturing towards the den.

“He’s right, we need to stay calm --”

“Hey, you know what, now that we have time to talk about it - since we got y/n outta Hell - you’re gonna finally answer my question, Cas…” Dean says, standing up.

“What are you talking about?” Castiel asks, tilting his head and squinting again.

“Why are you so passionate about helping y/n all of the sudden? You almost let p/h die countless times before --”

“That is not true, Dean. I have been watching over y/n long before you even met p/h.” Castiel quietly roars in his gravelly voice, cutting Dean off. Bobby, Sam, and Dean stare completely flabbergasted at the angel, and he quickly realizes his slip up as they stare at him.

“What?” Sam says, standing up slowly. 

“What do you mean you’ve been “watching over y/n before we even met p/h”?” Dean asks slowly with air quotations, his rage not settling down anytime soon. Castiel takes a step back, and tilts his head to the opposite direction and lifts his hands defensively.

“I - I can explain.” 

“Then explain.” Dean replies, crossing his arms and tilting his head to properly meet Castiel's gaze. Castiel hesitates, and Dean takes the silence as an opportunity to speak again. “Tell me, if you’ve been watching over y/n this whole time, why didn’t you _help p/p/_ until _now?_ ” Dean asks, extremely pissed off.

“I did help. I am the one who dropped y/n on the side of the road in Nevada for you two to pick them up.” Castiel says, trying to help his case, but ends up infuriating the three men even more. 

“You did _what_!?” Bobby practically snarls, his voice rising above a whisper.

“What if I didn’t see y/n on the side of the road? What if I hit p/h with my car by accident?” Dean asks angrily, his voice raising as well.

“Sounds like a piss-poor plan, if you ask me…” Sam adds, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows at the angel.

“It was not my plan. It was my orders from Heaven.” Castiel replies, trying to keep his voice low to not wake you up.

“Oh, so was _this_ just an order then? So, you don’t actually give a shit about y/n? Is that it?” Dean retorts, his voice loud enough to cause you to roll over and moan in your sleep. Everyone freezes, and stares at you worriedly, not wanting to wake you up since you didn’t get a good-night’s-sleep in ages. They all sigh with relief after seeing that you didn’t wake up, and then they continue quietly interrogating the angel again as if there was no interruption. 

“How could you even think that?” Castiel asks, completely offended with all of these accusations being thrown at him.

“I’m thinking a lot of things right now, Cas…” Dean grumbles, taking an aggressive step towards the angel. Castiel reacts quickly by stepping forward, getting close to Dean and taking him by surprise. 

“I rebelled against Heaven, Dean. I no longer take orders from them. It was _my_ choice to save y/n from perdition.” Castiel says in a low, deadpan growl.

“Why, Cas? Why did you save y/n when you’re no longer receiving orders to do so?” Dean asks, flailing his arms up into the air. Everybody stands absolutely still, not sure how this conversation led to this point; that’s the funny thing about a conversation, they lead you somewhere you’d never expect them to take you to. Castiel glares at Dean, hesitating with his answer for an uncomfortable amount of time. Bobby, Dean, and Sam quickly tense up, trying to act casual all of the sudden; which just confuses the angel. He turns around, and sees you standing there, rubbing your eyes with your hand tiredly.

“Why’re you guys arguing? Did I do something?” You mumble sleepily. Castiel’s stance becomes protective, and he grabs your shoulders reassuringly while shaking his head. 

“No, no, It’s not your fault... Just - just go back to sleep, okay, y/n?” Castiel says, slightly stumbling over his words. You raise an eyebrow at the seraph, noticing that he’s acting more awkward than usual. You shrug it off, thinking it might have something to do with their conversation, and you absently waddle upstairs to the bedroom Bobby set up for you years ago when he trained you. Bobby rolls into the den, Sam and Dean following suit to watch you walk up the stairs and saying goodnight to you. Dean turns around to face the kitchen after you disappear at the top of the stairs, only to find it empty. Castiel took the moment of you walking upstairs to leave Bobby’s, and end the heated conversation. 

“Son of a bitch…” Dean mutters under his breath as he enters the kitchen. He grabs his beer and chugs the rest of it down, squinting his eyes shut and making an odd choking sound to the beer he just downed in one gulp. Sam and Bobby sigh as Dean slams the bottle on the counter, and storms passed them.

“He can’t run away from this discussion forever…” Dean grumbles to himself as he slumps on the couch in the den. Castiel probably could run from the conversation forever, but it can always resurface eventually in the near or distant future…

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

You waddle down the stairs, wondering how long you’ve slept in for. You enter the den, and Sam sits up from the sofa with a jolt.

“Good morning --” Sam says, but is cut off when a pan crashes in the kitchen, and Dean hisses out a, “Shit!” You and Sam stare at Dean in the kitchen, picking up the pan he dropped on the floor, and puts it on the counter. He turns around and smiles at you.

“Nevada, you’re awake!” Dean says brightly. You squint your eyes and raise an eyebrow while looking over at Sam who mirrors your expression. Dean fumbles around for a minute, and turns around with a plate of eggs, bacon, potatoes, and slightly burnt toast on a plate. “I made you some breakfast. I promise the bacon didn’t fall on the floor.” Dean says with a smile, and walking over to you with the plate. He hands it to you, and you reluctantly accept it with a forced smile, keeping your gaze anywhere but at his eyes. 

“Oh - uh - thanks, Dean…” You mumble awkwardly while sitting on the couch beside Sam with the meal. You start to eat the food while Sam looks over at Dean with a baffled expression, wondering why Dean’s acting so weird. Dean smiles at you, and you look up at him with a crooked smile.

“Is it alright?” Dean asks with a hopeful look as he folds his arms over his chest. You hum and nod before averting your gaze back to your food. Your fork and knife scraping on the plate as you eat is the only sound in the room, causing you and the brothers to be in an uncomfortable silence.

“Where’s Bobby?” You ask, trying to make this situation feel less awkward. 

“Store,” Sam says, standing up and walking over to Dean.

“And Cas?” You ask, still looking at your food.

“Doing whatever it is Cas does when he’s gone...” Sam replies with a shrug. You nod slowly, still staring at your plate while you eat. Then there’s that uncomfortable silence again, itching everyone as you continue to eat. Sam takes the moment to grab Dean’s arm, and tug him into the kitchen to have a quiet discussion with his brother.

“Did you see that? Y/n couldn’t look me in the eyes…” Dean says while crossing his arms.

“Yeah, I noticed. I see what you mean now. P/p's definitely treating you different than the rest of us…” Sam says in a hushed voice, looking over his shoulder to make sure you’re still eating in the den. 

“So, what do we do, then?” Dean asks while leaning on the counter.

“Let’s just wait it out. Give y/n some time to fully recover, and then ask if p/p want to talk to us…” Sam says quietly.

“I can hear you two, you know. Just like I heard you talking last night, you morons.” You say, causing Dean and Sam to tense up and look over at you awkwardly. You put the plate on the table, and cross your arms at the two brothers.

“You didn’t finish your meal.” Dean says, trying to change the subject.

“I’m not hungry…” You mumble while raising an eyebrow at the older Winchester. “And don’t try to change the subject.” You add before they could delay the conversation even further. 

“You had no right to treat Cas like that, last night.” You say, striding over to be a bit closer to the brothers.

“If you heard the entire conversation last night, then you’d understand why we were pissed.” Dean says while adjusting his posture.

“Well you two obviously didn’t hear _our_ conversation,” you start, referring to you and Castiel, “he told me he was watching over me when we spoke. He said that he never wanted us to have such a crappy relationship when we met, so he tried to make it up to me by saving me.” You explain, taking the two brother’s by surprise.

“Oh,” Sam says, releasing his tension a bit.

“He did a pretty shitty job of watching over you, though.” Dean says with a grumpy huff.

“His way of giving me protection was having you two find me. You didn’t have to take me in, but you did. He knew you would.” You explain.

“He has no right to take credit for what we’ve done for you, y/n! He did fuck all while Sam, Bobby, and I were risking our lives for you!” Dean snaps, banging his fist on the counter furiously. You take a step back, and he instantly tenses when he sees the fear in your eyes.

“Dean,” Sam says, looking over at his brother with worry, realizing that he’s scaring you.

“Y/n, I didn’t mean to --” 

“Can I tell you something, Dean?” You say, cutting off his apology. He gulps painfully as he nods to your remark.

“When I was in Hell, I was offered a deal every day. I was asked if I would torture souls to stop my torturing. Do you wanna know what I said?” You say, causing both Sam and Dean to stare at you with anxiousness, not moving a muscle.

“I said no, Dean. I said no every - single - time…” You grumble, your jaw clenching and your fists balled up to your sides. Dean blinks at you with wide eyes; him and Sam are both utterly speechless.

“Y/n, I --” 

“Tell me, Dean. When you were in Hell, did you ever take that deal?” You ask, cutting Dean off. He gulps again, drops his arms to his sides, and stares at you like a deer caught in headlights. Sam looks over at Dean with a slight smolder, trying to silently figure out what he could say.

“I never got any deal like that,” Dean says almost like a robot. Sam widens his eyes in disbelief, wondering why Dean just lied to your face. You know Dean went to Hell, but he never spoke to you about what happened to him down there. You also know when Dean is lying, and you become incredibly pissed when you realize he just lied to your face right now. 

“Bullshit. I know when you’re lying, Dean.” You huff out impatiently. He silently curses how you can read him and Sam like a book, and he closes his eyes slowly. He’s stuck, and and actually doesn’t know what to say right now.

“Tell me you didn’t take that deal, Dean.” You beg, your voice sounding weaker than before. He slowly opens his eyes, and looks all over your face for an answer, but he just stays silent for a while.

“You son of a bitch…” you mutter quietly, casting your eyes to the floor. Sam clears his throat, and gives Dean a knowing look, urging him to say something to you. You start to remember Hell, and you remember Dean torturing and taunting you everyday like you’re a piece of meat. You realize that this vision of him must have been created out of his memory in Hell that was put together by the demons in charge of torturing you. That is when you realize that the Dean in Hell was real - it was just a part of him that he doesn’t show to you. You suddenly realize your face is puffy, and your eyes are itchy at tears flow down your cheeks. You didn’t realize that you started to cry at your epiphany, and you try to furiously shake the tears away. You find yourself mumbling under your breath, trying to calm yourself down. You suddenly feel rage boiling up inside of you, and you look up at the brothers.

You glare at Dean, and mutter, “Y-you tortured souls…you tortured me, you bastard…” This causes both of the brother’s eyes to widen at you with disbelief.

“Y/n?” Dean asks, slowly easing toward you with a careful hand. “I’m sorry --”

“Don’t touch me!” You roar, shoving Dean back with force. He stumbles back, losing his balance as he falls on his rear. Sam looks between you and Dean with shock, stepping back wearily.

“Y/n, are you okay? --”

“Shut up, Sammy!” You snap, glaring daggers at the tall and slightly terrified man. You storm towards the table - Sam jumping out of your way - to grab your meal, and you head back to Dean. He’s already taking cover as he realizes what you’re about to do. You whip the breakfast he made for you at his head, and the plate shatters as it hits the floor. You look up and notice Bobby at the back door with a grocery bag on his lap, and his eyes are wide with shock.

“I wasn’t hungry…” you grumble to Bobby before storming off behind him to go for a walk around his car lot. He looks over at Dean who has eggs, bacon, potatoes, and toast all over him and on the floor. Bobby would laugh, but the looks on Sam and Dean’s faces stops him, realizing there’s something more that just happened besides a lack of an appetite. 

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, another story done, and possibly many more to go. Instead of rewriting the whole series, I’m just making a collection of shorts set in different seasons to tell the important parts of the story. There was a lot of anger in this. I’m so sorry. The next one will be fluff, I promise.
> 
> I have this formula set up for writing these characters: Dean is hot-headed and sarcastic, Bobby is stubborn and grumpy, Castiel is stoic and awkward, and Sam is a puppy-moose who loves to fuckin’ pry into people’s business; he’s the only one ballsy enough to ask if someone’s okay when they clearly aren’t.
> 
> (This story is 27 pages in a word document, and I just - uhhgghnnnn…)


End file.
